


Just a Story

by Fyre



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-21
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 01:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a dark and stormy night, Rumpelstiltskin tells Belle a tale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Story

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from a prompt from Iambicdearie - Belle and Rumple discussing the Dark One. As a separate entity.

The wind was howling, and rain was lashing against the windows. 

Belle looked out at the grounds with a shudder.

The weather had turned, the storm one of the worst she’d ever seen, but Rumpelstiltskin seemed oblivious to it as he sat at his wheel. She supposed he was used to his mountainous hideaway, while she was more familiar with the storms that whipped the seas into a frenzy, rather than this whirling, screaming wind ripping around the castle.

In the grate, the fire danced eerily, casting strange shadows across the walls, as the storm wheedle its way down the chimney. It wasn’t enough to toss up sparks, but it was enough to tug and weave the flames.

“Something troubling you, dearie?”

Belle squeaked in surprise, whirling around to find Rumpelstiltskin right behind her. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

He giggled. “Hardly sneaking,” he said. “You were lost in thought.”

She nodded, jumping as a flash of lightning split the sky. “I’ve never seen a storm so terrible as this?”

He looked out, then back at her. “Terrible? Dearie, you lived by the sea.”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. “At least there, you could go inland to get away from it,” she said. “Here, it’s everywhere. It feels like you wouldn’t be able to escape it, even if you wanted to.”

“Come now,” he said. “You’re safe here.” He motioned to the fire. “Sit and warm yourself.”

She nodded, turning away from the window, trying to ignore the rumble of thunder that seemed to be settling right on top of the castle. “It’s the kind of night for telling ghost stories,” she murmured, pulling one of the chairs closer to the fire.

To her surprise, Rumpelstiltskin agreed. “I remember such nights,” he murmured, a strange, thoughtful look on his face. “We were sure the ogres were beating down the sky to reach us.” He caught her look of surprise and grinned unpleasantly. “It’s strange the stories children will make up to scare one another.”

He was going to go back to his wheel, leave her to watch the flames, and as the thunder cracked again, she knew she needed to be distracted by something else.

“Do you know any good stories?” she asked.

He paused, his hands tangled before his chest. “I?”

She smiled and nodded, motioning to the other chair. “It’s a good night for a story,” she said.

He stood motionless for a moment, the fire casting strange shadows on his face. Finally, he turned and drew the other chair closer. With a gesture, he snuffed the candles, and he leaned forward conspiratorially. She leaned closer too, eager and curious.

“Tell me, dearie,” he whispered. “What do you know of the Dark One?”

Even the name sent a shiver of dread down her spine. 

“I’ve never heard of it,” she whispered.

His upper lip curled back, and it was almost a smile, but far too diabolical. “It’s a terrible creature, dearie,” he said, his voice low, so low she had to lean a little closer. “If you ever come across it, run for your life, if you have anything you hold dear.”

“What is it?” she breathed, wide-eyed.

His eyes looked almost black, fixed on her face and glittering eerily. “It’s a force, a powerful force,” he breathed. “It takes those it can manipulate and bends them to its will. It gives them hope, then snares them, and they are its servants.”

“Is it magic?” she asked.

He laughed, low and wicked. “What else, dear? What else? Don’t you know that magic is a terrible, terrible burden to those who have no control?” He grinned, his face creased with darkness and shadow. “If you expect it to bend to your will, you will be sorely surprised when it turns on you like a viper.”

She looked at him intently. “Magic?” she asked. “Or the Dark One?”

He raised a finger, wagging at her, and his lips curved in another not-quite-smile. She had a feeling that her question was the right one to ask. “All magic has a price,” he said softly. “Even the Dark One must abide by that rule.”

“Have you ever seen it?” she asked, propping both arms on the arm of the chair.

“The Dark One?” She nodded, and he inclined his head. “Once, many years ago.” He traced his fingertip along his upper lip, watching her solemnly. “The wars with the ogres did not start with your generation, dearie. Oh no. Many were desperate enough to call on him in those times, when the first wars were summoning those to the front.”

“Can it defeat them?” Belle asked eagerly. “Ogres?”

Something in his expression darkened. “Yes,” he hissed softly. “And yet, the one who summoned it used it for any purpose but that. Terrible purposes, when he could have ended the war.”

Belle shuddered. The idea of someone holding the power to end the war and doing nothing was a horrific thought. “What happened to him? The man who summoned it?”

Rumpelstiltskin’s features twitched into a dark smile. “He died,” he breathed. “The Dark One was no longer his, and his neck was snapped like a wet twig.”

Belle stared at him. “It killed him?” she whispered. 

“It killed the monster,” he said with a dark little laugh. “He had stolen children and sent them to their deaths. He prolonged a war he could have prevented. He humiliated and shamed those below him.” There was a grim satisfaction in his features. “I doubt he was mourned.”

“Even the worst people have someone who cares,” Belle murmured, without thinking.

Rumpelstiltskin snorted, but the bitterness was gone now. “So the stories tell us,” he murmured. 

“So what happened next?” she asked, studying his features. “What happened to the Dark One? Did it find someone else?”

He looked at her, strands of shadow framing his face and hair. “I believe it did,” he whispered. “It always does. But maybe this time, it’s someone strong enough to bend it to their will and control it as much as it can be controlled.”

She drew back in her chair, gazing at him, taking the words of his tale and turning them over and over in her mind. A creature with magic that could only be controlled with a price. A creature who could be terrible and monstrous. A creature who could stop the assaults of the ogres in the blink of an eye.

“I’m glad,” she said softly.

He was silent, and the wind shrilled, making the flames crackle and snap.

“Glad?” he finally asked in a whisper.

“Glad that it found someone who can control it,” she said, holding his gaze as much as she could, his face still masked in shadow. “Glad that they could use it to stop a war, if they wanted to do it.” She raised her eyebrows just slightly. “For a price.”

That little half-smile was back, quick as the lightning splitting the sky. “Well,” he said, sitting back and crossing his legs, “it’s only a story anyway.”

Belle just smiled. “Isn’t everything?”


End file.
